a certain darkness is needed to see the stars
by TaoGrace
Summary: post-tartaros au, in which Lucy mourns the loss of her spirits and Natsu doesn't know how to handle her.


It was no different this time, no matter how much it bothered her. She could stare at the stars all night long, watching their mocking gaze and angered silence. They would not come back. They would not answer. And that silence was deafening and mind-numbing and she hated it more than she hated herself.

The golden girl sat and stared at the heavens above, expecting a twitch, a frown, a groan, anything, _anything at all._ But what should she expect, when she'd been the one to bathe in their blood?

It was her fault they were gone. Dead and cold, scattered star dust, wasting away on dissipated columns in inexistent parts of the universe. Looking at them, now, they were nothing more than empty hollows, eyes of a corpse, set dangling in the velvet sky to taunt her, flaunt themselves blatantly , inflict pain and despair and madness and guilt…

The grass beneath her was wet and laying too long might just get her sick, but caring ha been long overdue for her. The only light that danced about her now was the one in her name; a name she dreaded with passion, a name she wished would cease existing, because it had brought upon her so much pain. She wasn't one to wallow in self-pity, but now she felt like drowning in the pond nearby. Suffocating would have been her greatest pleasure… perhaps then, she'd manage to finally breathe.

She stumbled and fell, while trying to rise from her make-shift seat on the ground. Maybe drinking hadn't been the best choice. Not before coming here, in this god-damned place, where, if she's lucky, she might find an end. Closure to her hell, because nothing could be worse than what she was now.

Inhaling was hard, her eyes filled with soot and unclean water. Her throat clenched upon itself, her finger grabbing at the grass, dirt caking under her nails. She curled up around herself, hoping to disappear , to crack around the edges and slowly, surely slip into blissful nothingness.

"Luce?"

The voice, once full and sound and not belonging to a broken man, reached her ears, tearing at her insides, because he was broken, too, broken a thousand times worse than her, but _why was it him coming to her, trying to sew her wounds shut and put her back together_.

"Luce. What happened..? What are you doing here? What's wrong?"

The worry in his tone made her want to crawl in hole and never come out. She felt ashamed of her weakness, ashamed of herself, _how dare she act like this, there was no reason, you piece of thrash, you haven't lost anything, fuck, damn, what is wrong ?!_

"Shut up." She answered, finally, trying to get up. Her voice was raw, and it hurt, _ it hurt, it hurt it hurt…_

There was no time to hurt, though, because he grabbed her arms, forcing upon her the stability she didn't know whether or not she wanted. The rough skin of his palms making contact with her forearms, steadying her.

Her eyes refused to look at him, refused to see the man he'd become, the broken doll, ragged and torn, all because of _her_. Guilt washed over her, clenching her gut, her muddled brain trying to make sense of him finding her and _why the fuck was he helping her_ when he could've been somewhere else, somewhere warm, not outside in the cold, damp night, a night during which a corner of sky had been visible at last, plain corner teasing and taunting at her soul, because maybe, just _maybe_, they might be waiting for her there…

"You won't answer, will ya?" his hollow voice filled her ears with anguish. He knew she'd been out, drowning her sorrows in a tavern, because that's what she'd been doing for the better part of the last month.

She shook her head slowly, unsurely, her shoulder starting to tremble. Her once-upon-a-time golden locks fell gracelessly around her neck, having lost their shine and hiding her face from him. Her heart shattered in a thousand pieces when she felt his now-cold hands slide off her. Her eyes were filled and each rasping breath pushed her closer to her limit, when she knew she would just turn into a messy heap of pyrite curls and broken porcelain. She hugged herself, trying to block away his presence, because it was no longer warm and she didn't want to see his tired, beautiful eyes look at her with concern. She couldn't.

He scoffed, sighed and it seemed that seeing her like this cause him physical pain, and _that_ was too much to bear, because he grabbed her roughly by the back of her dress, pushing and pulling her towards an uncertain destination. She said nothing.

After what seemed like hours, he finally reached a narrow dirt road, up the hill, then through the small forest; it was a road she knew well, a road she'd jumped and sung on, laughed in the sunlit evening, grinning from ear to ear for him.

That wasn't the case now, not when they reached the plain wooden door of his small cottage. He threw the door open, almost pulling it off its hinges and pushed her inside, shut the door and slammed her to it. Her head collided painfully with the wood and she felt dizzier and more unfocused than she thought possible. The air was knocked out of her lungs, and his hands on her shoulders would paint her black and blue. She didn't care much about that, though.

It wasn't the worst to come, now that he'd reached his boiling point (ha! if only…). She still refused to look at him, preferring the darkness over his shoulder. She was biting the inside of the mouth, the metallic taste of blood flooding her senses and she knew he was about to erupt.

"WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU, WOMAN!?" he roared, pushing her harder. She cringed. "IT'S BEEN A FUCKING MONTH. GET OVER IT. GET OVER IT AND GET A FUCKING GRIP ON YOURSELF. BREATHE, BLINK, STOP DRINKING YOURSELF TO DEATH AND LISTEN TO ME!"

The despair in his voice made her eyes leak, her cheeks now lined with salt, eyes blobbed and red, her nose running when she failed to contain the first whimper. It seemed to tick him off even further, that she cried because of him. The alcohol in her system made everything seem sharper, real, more painful and it scared her shitless. He scared her shitless, with his green eyes out of focus and his nails digging into her arms.

"WHY DO YOU DO THIS TO YOURSELF? WHY? WHY CAN'T YOU JUST BUCK THE FUCK UP AND COME TO TERMS WITH THE FUCKING FACT THAT IT'S GONE! IT'S FUCKING GONE, SO STOP DESTROYING YOURSELF OVER IT! MAGIC IS FUCKING _GONE!_ IT AIN'T COMIN' BACK, LUCE!_" _

Instead of making her curl up on herself, he made her angry… apparently, under all that piling shit in her soul, there _was_ something else, something he had brought out of her with teeth and claws, leaving her bloodied mind somewhere unknown.

"BECAUSE IT ISN'T FUCKING EASY! IT ISN'T EASY TO WAKE UP AND NOT FEEL ANYTHING! IT ISN'T FUCKING EASY TO LOSE EVERYTHING I HAD! IT ISN'T ALL PEACHY AND FIXED-UP! IT WON'T EVER BE, NATSU! I LOST EVERYTHING, EVERYTHING THAT MY MOTHER LEFT ME, EVERYTHING THAT MADE ME MYSELF! DON'T EXPECT ME TO JUST POP OUTTA THE FUCK-"

"_YOU_ LOST EVERYTHING THAT MADE YOU YOURSELF?! _YOU_ LOST YOUR FUCKTARD OF A FATHER THE SECOND TIME 'ROUND, WITHOUT BEIN' ABLE TO MOVE A SINGLE FUCKING CLAW 'BOUT IT?! _I_ LOST EVERYTHING! AND NOW I'M LOSING _YOU_!"

Tears were streaming down her face freely, her skin was full with an unhealthy flush, and her lips were bitten raw. Her voice had been cracking, as she let everything out, spitting it into his face, when she realized he was no better; cheeks wet and knuckles white and scarred. His eyes were hard and he was pale, oh-so-pale and looked frail and breakable.

Lucy let her head fall back into the door and closed her eyes, blinking back the tears and resting them for a second. She bit her lips , then turned to him, meeting his hard gaze with her own, exhausted and red.

She didn't know if Natsu pulled her in or she threw herself on him, but she knew that she was suddenly in his arms, and he was mumbling in her hair, nose buried and looking for a scent he once held dear. She slumped and her arms went around his waist, her fingers knotted in his shirt and her nose in his shoulder. She put her ear against his neck and counted his now-slowing-down heartbeats. His breathing calmed and lulled her already tired mind.

He caressed her hair and shoulders, touching her not too lightly, but not harshly, just _so_ that she felt warm, and she let him rock her gently, stepping from foot to foot, their coordination from bad downwards.

Finally, they reached his bed and fell down wordlessly, kicking of boots and sandals, and tucked themselves in, because there was no fire in the hearth and the air was, she noticed for the first time, chilly. She sighed as he pulled her closer, her dress hiking up her thighs, and his shirt discarded somewhere. Heavy lids fell on both their eyes and she pursed her lips, scooting closer to him, laying her head on his shoulder and breathing in softly. She was tired and half-drunk and she only wanted his warmth, the warmth that hadn't gone to hell together with is magic.

Natsu held her tighter, an arm bent to a make-shift pillow for her head and a hand on her lower back, keeping her close to him, making sure she was going nowhere. There was no need for words, not when their silence was comfortable, not when the obvious hung so heavily between them, as he bent over to pepper kisses on her neck, going up to her jaw-line and silently, deftly, unsure of himself, reached the corner of her mouth.

She didn't flinch away, or even budge. She turned her head ever-so-slightly and pressed her cracked lips to his own, her eyes closed, dainty fingers running on the planes of his face, feeling the warm flesh underneath. She was never going to come so close to losing him again.

If Lucy would have looked through the window, she would've seen the night sky, now devoid of clouds and shadows, twinkling with diamond-like dots. They smiled.

**A/N: sooo, after centuries, a nalu story. au where magic disappeared after face and not everyone died. hope y'all like it! ^u^**

**thanks so much for reading! have a nice day :3**


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